Always on my Mind
by Herecomesthespecialforces
Summary: My take on how the conversation would have gone for Elvis the morning of his wedding. One shot. Elvis, Debs and Captain James.
1. Chapter 1

It was a baby. Ugly like all babies are with dark hair and a scrunched up red face. He didn't know why Debs was standing with it on his doorstep looking at him, a stubborn set to her jaw. Months had passed since he'd last seen her, she hadn't even crossed his mind since the last text he'd replied to. The reply had been blunt, to the point, he'd moved on and so should she. 2 dates and 3 shags they'd had together, with hindsight even if Georgie hadn't come into his life they were never going anywhere. It took a special person to compete with his first love - the Army.

With a nod of his head Elvis invited her into his home, you didn't grow up with an Italian family and not respect a woman with a baby, kicking abandoned shoes to the side as he lead her through to the kitchen. Maybe she needed a favour, wanted to wish him well on his marriage. He never had taken her off his facebook page. Saying that, she could just have left him a status like half the world had done. "Cuppa?" He asked, looking at his watch. 11.30am. It was going to take him an hour comfortably to get to the Town Hall, Charlie was due in half an hour. "Though I'm not sure the milks the right side of fresh." Laughing, expecting her to share in his humour, she always did, everybody always did. He was Elvis; the cheeky chappy, always an answer and joke for every situation.

"No thanks."

Raising his eyes at her answer he took the kettle over to the sink. She might not want one but he did. There was still a lingering hangover from 2 nights ago. The hangover to kill all hangovers, just as well he never planned on getting married again, one stag weekend was enough for a lifetime. A grin lit up his face, he really couldn't believe he was getting married today. Tomorrow he'd be standing looking at this view with Georgie, spending the last few days here together before they moved into Married Quarters. The honeymoon was going to have to wait. She had an exercise coming up and they both knew the Army came first. He couldn't remember being this happy, excited for the future ever before. Content's how he felt, exactly where he should be in life. The luckiest bastard alive. Georgie the woman of his dreams, the girl who knew and understood his job just like he appreciated hers. Not many couples worked like they did.

Placing the kettle back on the cradle he turned, almost surprised Debs was still here. As if by having submerged himself in the happy thoughts of the the future she'd disappear like everything else in his past. But she wasn't, she was standing inside the door, the baby still in her arms, only an intermittent snuffle coming from the abundance of blankets.

"We need to talk."

The song he was humming, _their_ song died on his lips. He'd been around women enough to know this was never going to be good. "Alright."

"I should have told you before…." She stopped there, awkwardly looking down at the floor, her arms tightening around the kid. Somewhere in his belly he started to get worried, the small glint of fear he'd sometimes get on a mission where for a second you thought things were going to go tits-up. At an attempt at controlling the situation he leaned against the kitchen counter, his default position of showing no emotion. Without thinking about it he crossed his arms, leaned back increasing the distance between them.

"Spit it out Debs."

"Listen this is difficult for me okay?" Debs shuffled from foot to foot, not able to stand still. Her eyes searched his face, looking for something she wouldn't find because more and more he was shutting himself off. Withdrawing. Foreboding taking hold, a fear he was going to lose control over the day, have to sort some problem out for the woman standing in front of him. Georgie would have his balls if he didn't turn up on time, years of taking the piss because he hadn't even turned up on time for his own wedding ahead of him. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth because really he liked it when his fiancee took the piss, never in a million years would he admit that to her. "I thought I could do it on my own."

His chin jerked back, giving up hiding the confusion on his face. Really, he had no idea what she was on about. It was now 11.50, Charlie would be here any minute, he needed to get her out of here. "What Debs, what couldn't you do on your own. And I don't mind admitting, I really can't see what I can do to help."

"Laura. She's yours."

The tone was so soft, he struggled to hear. Letting his brain try to put the pieces together the woman he barely knew had said. "Who the fuck is Laura?"

For some reason she was looking down at the baby. A tear sliding down her face. "This has nothing to do with us Elvis, I don't want to get back together with you but you need to know. I should have told you before. I made the wrong choice."

Nobody would have said Elvis wasn't clever, maybe they would argue he was more street clever until they saw him commanding an op, the strategic thought process he had would have put them in their place, silenced any doubters. In this situation he would have admitted he was stupid still not having a clue what she was talking about. "You're going to have to give me it straight. I ain't got a clue what you're talking about." Manners, the ones his parents had struggled to instill in him made an appearance in the fact he didn't tell her she needed to get a move on, say what she had to say and let him get to his wedding.

"She's yours?"

Her words were strong, decisive, clear. He knew now what she meant. Fragments of his life starting to crumble around him.

In his life he'd been in too many life threatening situations, a cool head had got him out of them and nothing was different in this situation. It was his heart which was thumping a million beats to the minute, rushing blood around his body. The clear head which before would have been juggling solutions, waiting for him to pick the best one was now showing him in vivid technicolour detail Georgie's face. He'd let her down. "We never.." Recollection, a struggle to remember their times together. Grasping at straws. 3 times and he was sure he'd used a condom each time, he wasn't stupid, didn't take risks that way. Georgie had been the first he'd been willing to take the risk with. But there was enough room for doubt, a fleeting memory of thinking something wasn't right through the fuzz of far too many shots. "How do you know it's mine?" If his mum ever heard he'd asked her that, she'd disown him. Even to his ears it sounded crass.

" _ **She**_ is yours because I don't sleep around and…."

"Ready to give up the rest of your life mate?"

At the interruption Debs drops her head, hiding her tears. It doesn't take long for Elvis to move forward, avoiding looking into the bundle in her arms as he passes. In the corridor he's met with the sight of Charlie, fully kitted out in his No1's, his oldest mate. He wished he looked like him, no concern on his features, a smile which isn't forced. "Listen..." Looking down the hand he's holding out, pointing back to the door his friend has just come through, is shaking. "I need you to give me 5 minutes, actually make it 10 no 15, there's something I need to sort out."

His friends face changes to amusement, a cheeky dawning as he comes to his own conclusion. "What you doing a wedding day special, shaving your balls or something for Georgie."

If the baby, no Laura he supposed, hadn't cried he might have got away with a boyish grin and an arm on the back of Charlie as he escorted him out the flat but instead his friend looked at him. "What the fuck is going on Elvis." His preferred reply would be 'I don't fucking know, help me.' There was even a threat of tears, or eyes which filled with unshed tears which didn't go unnoticed causing the look on the man opposite to change to disagreeable acceptance. "I'll give you 15 minutes and then I'm coming back in, I'm here for you but I won't have you hurting Georgie. Believe you me marriage is hard enough when things are perfect never mind cheating and taking…"

"Quick to jump to conclusions aren't you?" Elvis spat out. It had the desired effect of Charlie shutting up, conceding the point for the moment. "As I said give me 15 minutes…. Please."

For the first time in his life he feels alone. Closing the door on his friend, turning around and facing his past. More than anything he wanted to go back to this morning and do everything differently. Not to have opened the door and have the bubbling excitement as he got dressed in his No1's, rather than the sick churning he was now experiencing. Rather than go into the kitchen Elvis stands at the door, taking a deep breath before smiling a smile which doesn't meet his eyes. "Come through to the living room." Whether he wants to or not his eyes are drawn to the baby, this time they see more. Almost laughing when he acknowledges the kids ugly because it looks like him. God help it. He would like to say he didn't feel anything for the crumpled bundle but something in his heart is sparking, unfortunately the guilt and worry about George is damping the naked flame, stopping it igniting. "What do you want me to do?"

Debs sits down, rocking the now gurning bundle in her arms. She looks apologetic, out of place and ashamed when their eyes meet. He find himself sitting beside her, putting his hand on her shoulder, it's not a hug but it's some sort of human comfort. "Be there for her, she doesn't deserve not to have a father because we made a mistake."

"I'm in the Army, I ain't exactly going to be around much." Elvis knows in some ways he's still looking for an out, him and Georgie are lucky, both stationed near Manchester and yet have enough trouble finding time for each other. Debs lives in London, 4 hours away. Looking down he sees his hands winding round each other, his eyes filling up with tears. "I can give you money, work something out." Is he really offering her money to shut up, to go away. That's not who he is. When younger he had been a womanising shit, now changed, settled, not the kind of man who'd let someone else take the burden of his responsibilities. Laura takes that specific moment in time to open her eyes, they're blue, piercing and looking right at him. "How old is she?"

A small finger escapes the blanket, Debs catches it, lets it wrap around her own finger. "4 weeks." A smile breaches her face for a second, a look of love at her daughter. "I don't think I've had more than 2 hours sleep since she's been born." She sighs, a sadness to it and looks at him properly for the first time. "I have tried Elvis, but I was running out of time to make a decision."

His wedding day, a brilliant time to get him to make a decision. "I'm meant to be getting married today Debbie."

"I know."

"Fucking hell. I don't know what to do."

"She'll understand. It's not as if you've been unfaithful."

But it's her life he thinks. They had plans. Countries they wanted to see, Georgie had wanted him to teach her how to ski. Could they do all that when he had a responsibility elsewhere. Or would he be holding her back, forever. There was no doubt he loved her, but where was his right to lumber her with someone else's kid. "I'm gonna' go out and speak to Charlie alright."

* * *

His friend looks up in surprise as the car door opens and Elvis, still in his jogging pants and t-shirt sits next to him. There's no filter as he tells Charlie the story. A lack of emotion even in his delivery. Because he knows now he has a choice; Georgie or Laura.

"What you going to do?" Charlie's face is ashen, it would comfort Elvis to know he was trying to think up solutions. "You might be lucky mate Georgie might not rip your crown jewels off in front of your entire family…. You going to catch her before she leaves the house?"

"I'm not getting married."

"You don't know that you daft dick. Talk to her, you're a bit unlucky the first test of your relationship is coming before you've even signed the nuptials but…."

"I'm not ruining her life Charlie."

"Is that your decision to make?" The windows of the car have steamed up, making it easier to argue, raise voices at each other. "I'm telling you, you need to speak to Georgie, postpone the wedding but don't….."

Tears start cascading down Elvis's face. Angrily he wipes them away, tries to retain the impartiality needed for his job but it's hard when your heart is breaking. "It'll never work, she'll always be held back because of me. I won't be able to give her the life she wants and you know how that doesn't work."

"Yes but at least Rebecca and I tried…"

"And how long was she unhappy whilst you tried Charlie. I remember,picking up the pieces for you and her." His voice breaks from shouting, and trying to keep the emotion lodged somewhere it doesn't hurt. Silence settles in the car, neither of them like arguing, especially with each other, too long they've been there for each other. Elvis speaks, quietly, a hint of steel to his voice. "I'm making this decision for the two of us."

Charles drawls, sarcasm dripping off the vowels. "Well good luck with that conversation." At the lack of witty or otherwise retort he turns to his friend, raising an eyebrow waiting on a response. He doesn't get the one he expects.

"I'm not going to have that conversation am I. I want you to tell her. From this moment I'm out of her life."

"You fucking do that mate and I'm telling you, if you decide a day, a week, a month, a year, even in another fucking lifetime you've made the wrong decision she'll have nothing to do with you and if she does I'll be the one telling her she's a stupid fool. You are making the wrong decision here, categorically no doubt about it."

Elvis nods his head, hand on the door handle. "So you'll tell her then?"

"And what exactly the fuck will I tell her Elvis?"

He's out the car, a decision made which he thinks he can't go back on no matter what his friend say. Bending down into the car he looks at his mate. Maybe this will ruin them as well. He can see Charlie thinks he's a selfish bastard, is making the wrong mistake but he's not standing in his shoes. Wasn't brought up in a family who would never understand if he didn't do the right thing by his kid. He doesn't love Georgie like he does.

Anyway he always knew Georgie was too good for him, her family had never hidden their thoughts about him; they'd be relieved. This was the first unselfish act of his entire life. What would her life be like married to an SAS bloke, nothing but stress and worry. "Tell her I'm sorry but I can't go through with it." The slam of the car door ends the conversation, the crunch of the brakes and squealing of tyres adds an air of finality.

Standing in front of his flat, Elvis shuts his eyes, has one final image of Georgie beneath him as they made love, remembers the feel of her as he held her, the glint in her eye when she laughs and then as pain engulfs him he opens his eyes. The world is duller now, colours muted. And suddenly he knows, turning and seeing Charlie's car disappear at the end of the street he's made a mistake, a huge mistake because she's never ever going to smile at him again.


	2. A Little Less Conversation

**This FF started life as a selfish attempt to engage with the new characters. It was a very pleasant surprise to find some have engaged with the first chapter, thank you and I hope you enjoy this. Still not sure if I can make many more one shots!**

"I have to go and talk to someone."

"You have to or you want to?" She questioned slowly, batting her eyelids as she looked up at him. Her finger tracing along the collar of his dress uniform.

"I suppose _want_ to, but I don't _want_ to leave you." Molly grinned at his response, enjoying the reassurance of his lips against her forehead. Across the room the sound of a loud guffaw catches her attention, turning towards the noise and watching the high jinks on the dance floor, letting out an involuntary sigh, placing her head against his chest. "You okay?" Looping his hand around her waistline he tugs her closer to him.

"Yeah. Just a bit different to a night down the Earl you know." The response doesn't reassure him, no effort to move to whoever he's decided he needs to speak to, instead she takes control and places her hands on the hard planes of his chest and gently pushes him away. "I'm fine. Honest. You go see whoever you have to see 'n' I'll have a wander. Maybe even get myself another drink."

From the minute they'd arrived his hand had been in hers. She was thankful. Her first Ball was daunting to say the least, but he'd supported her through the worst, and now, with her own two feet, she wanted to see if she could find a sense of belonging in this whole new world.

With a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose, another questioning look into her eyes and a final sigh he left. She stayed where she was, watching him stride away, confident and at ease in his surroundings, knowing she would never tire of the sight of him. Six months they'd been together and though it sounded a respectable amount of time, her Nan already making comments about buying a hat, only in the last 2 months they had the opportunity to get to know each other. His period of intensive rehab and her short tour abroad had curtailed their fledgling relationship. If there hadn't been the kinship, as he liked to call it, she doubted they'd ever have made it. But they had, and they were stronger for it. She'd even mistakenly mentioned the love word, a moment's lack of concentration and it had come spilling out. There was no way she could take it back and he wouldn't have let her even if she could. His response of 'about fucking time Dawsey' was added to the long list of insults which meant the world to her.

Standing on her tiptoes, stretching her the tight calf muscles unused to wearing heels, Molly pivots with the gracefulness of a soldier used to completing 5k runs in combat boots, until her gaze settles on a waiter. She smiles, meeting his eyes, thankful she doesn't recognise him. It had been her biggest worry, someone she knew, had served with, would be expected to wait on her. It wouldn't be right.

Conscious without Charles, her hands have gathered a nervous layer of sweat, Molly smooths the fabric of her dress over her hips, pressing her fingertips into the palms of her hands to check there's no residue left, the last thing she needs is to take a glass of champagne from the waiter and have it slip through her fingers, crashing and splintering onto the highly polished wooden floor, drawing attention to herself.

"You havin' a good night with these bunch of Rupert's?" Molly asks when he's standing in front of her, picking two glasses of cold champagne off the tray and bestowing him with a cheeky grin. She guesses he's a new recruit, his back too straight and an air of nerves, one which she recognises from when the shoe had been on the other foot.

"Ma'am?"

"I ain't a Ma'am. I'm Molly." Taking a tentative sip of her drink, still not convinced about Champagne, give her a vodka and coke any day of the week, she tries to make him feel at ease. "Take it you….. "

"Sir."

It's easy to guess who's standing behind her right shoulder, the cause of the sudden scared wide eyed expression on her new found friends face gives it away even without the way the hairs on the back of her neck standing up as they always do when she's in his presence. She does try but her smile to the young guy isn't enough to reassure, quickly he's backing away from them with a look of fear on his face. "You can wipe that look off your face mate." Without turning she knows he'd be demonstrating the finest of his stern face looks, he might even be slightly pissed off with her.

Bending her knee, angling her foot she finds contact with his body, trailing the tip of her heel down the inside of his left leg. Her actions have the desired effect, his hand wrapping around her body, settling against her hip and pulling her sharply into his body.

"I thought I'd changed your mind about Rupert's." He growls, finding the lobe of her ear with his teeth, gently biting the soft flesh until her body sinks further into his.

Molly's teeth graze her bottom lip, placing her hand over his and holding it against her body, needing to show him there's no truth to her words. "Never rest on your laurels mate. You'll always be a Rupert to me. Did you have a good chat?" She feels his sigh against her neck and before she knows it she's facing him missing one glass of champagne. Unlike her he consumes it in one go. Handing her the empty glass when he's finished. His next words clipped, short.

"I'd like you to meet him. And I want you to be nice okay?"

He's nervous, which surprises her. Not an emotion he normally shows. She often tells him he can do grumpy and moody well, the insecurity of his character doesn't often make public appearances. Her finger trails down the worry line furrowed into his brow. "Of course I'll be nice to him, whoever he is."

"I was just about to tell the pair of you to get a fuckin' room."

Charles sighs at the interruption, his hand extending towards the man standing quietly in front of them, nonchalantly drinking a bottle of beer, acting like he's already bored. "Molly Elvis, Elvis Molly."

"What you the bleedin' entertainment for the night?"

"If you want to be funny you're going to have to be a bit more original than that darlin'"

"Think your mum was original enough for all of us with that name." She is fascinated. Something captivating about him; a confidence he doesn't care what people's impressions are of him or a pretence he doesn't give a shit, she wasn't entirely sure. Even the flash of annoyance in his eyes at her response is attempted to be controlled. Taking more interest in the drink in his hand and the people on the dance floor behind her. It gives her time to study him.

He's the same height as Charles, slimmer but where her soulmate gives the impression a fight would be his last form of defence, the Officer standing in front of her wouldn't think twice about taking that course of action. An air of danger to him. There's no denying he is beautiful in appearance, mediterranean in the colour of his skin, dark eyes and glossy black hair. His accent, similar to hers surprised her, she'd almost been disappointed when he'd opened his gob and spoken to her with a London accent.

"Christ Charlie, I thought you couldn't do any worse than Rebecca…."

"Charlie? Charlie?" She giggles, verging on the hysterical, pleased to see a smile tugging at the corner of Charles mouth at her response. Her Nan had once called him Charlie, his cheeks had coloured, mumbling a 'my name is Charles.' It was a brave thing to do with her Nan, once she sensed a weakness she never let it go. A testament to the adoration of her grand-daughters boyfriend she had continued to call him Charles. "You've never said anyone calls you fucking Charlie." Molly tilts her head back, closing her eyes and tries out the new sound. She likes it.

"Maybe she's better than Rebecca." Opening her eyes, she finds Elvis is making eye contact, a twinkle in their depths. However, the smile is wiped of Charles face, or so he wants to give the impression.

"What, she pisses herself laughing at my name and you promote her in your estimation?"

"Basically yeah."

"Fuckin' dick." Charles replies, affection in his tone.

"Fuckin' twat."

Molly raises the two empty glasses, clinking them together. "If you're both gonna' continue with your testosterone fuelled bromance I'm gonna' need another drink. Need something to settle my stomach feelin' a bit queasy for some reason."

Shrugging, Elvis takes a swig of beer then studies his half full bottle. "I'm half empty, don't need topped up. Your shout Charlie."

She wants to change her mind, in her grand plan it was Elvis who would piss off and get her a drink. Spending time in his company isn't on her list this evening. Something about him makes her unsettled, trying to suss it out, knowing other than an observation of his good looks she doesn't find him attractive. Narrowing her eyes trying to see the bloke behind the pretty face.

He was never still she notices, checking his watch too often, his eyes constantly flicking around the room, looking for someone possibly, but if it was the case, he'd look eager, enthusiastic. In reality his expression never changes from indifference.

She may as well get this over with. Handing her empty champagne flutes over to Charles. "Can you get me a beer this time. I don't think champagne is quite my bag."

"Elvis, anything?"

"I'm good mate."

"So you persuaded him to stay in?" Elvis asks when his friend is safely out of earshot.

"I didn't persuade him. I just didn't get involved when he talked about leaving, was just like yeah whatever mate." She shrugs. "Didn't take long for his letters to start talking about maybe rethinkin' it all. Sayin' he didn't want to be too hasty. Told him it was a good idea as I didn't think I'd fancy him if he was sittin' about on his arse all day. Seemed to do the trick."

"Well I'm glad you did."

"What you gonna' thank me?"

"Eh no, he wouldn't have been thinking of leaving if it wasn't for you in the first place."

Wonderful, thinks Molly, his attitude obviously to do with her and Charles relationship. He isn't the first to disapprove and he won't be the last. She clears her throat, attention on the floor, waiting for the moment to pass. Prior experience has taught her to keep her gob shut, people have their opinions, only her, Charles, her parents, her brothers and sisters, his parents, 2 Section and Major Beck's had mattered - eventually.

"Shit sorry."

"What?" She asks confused.

"I don't.. I get… I'm happy for the pair of you. He's been like a different bloke." Elvis brings his shoulders up, his expression bordering on the friendly. "You're good for each other and that's what matters ain't it?"

"Yeah I think so."

"I think you only get once chance in life at love, you've got to grab it." Fascinated she watches, his expression finally gives something away. A haunted look she's seen on squaddies faces when they talk about having lost someone. Goodness who's she kidding; it's a look she recognises from the face in the mirror when she thinks about Smurf, sees it on Charles face when he's comforting her.

"So what 'bout you. Any significant others?"

Taking a step back and leaning against the wall he gives her a sideways glance. "Nosey ain't you?"

"Or making conversation. Depends on your point of view."

"Charlie never said anything to you?"

"About what?"

"Me?"

"Should he of?

"Nah." The already familiar shutters come down across his eyes.

Retreating into her own world, she processes the news Charles has kept something from her. It doesn't sit easy. Scanning the guests, wanting to see him and reassure herself if it was important he wouldn't hold anything back. Even silently arguing with herself everyone has some secrets, she hasn't told him everything about her family but still, this is the first time in their relationship this has happened.

His dark curls are easy to spot, even in a room full of soldiers, still one of the tallest threading his way back towards them. Meeting her gaze almost immediately. She knew he too had been looking for her. Concern on his face reading her expression. Reaching them, handing her the bottle and gathers her against him. "Everything okay?" Words asked against her hair.

"Fine."

"Really?"

Elvis checks his watch, finished his beer, aware he's surplus to requirements. "Well I'd better get off, leave you two lovebirds to do.. Well.. whatever love birds do. Good seeing you Charlie."

"You too." They shake hands, for a minute it looks like neither are going to let go. "Let's not leave it so long the next time." Charles words shifts a harshness on Elvis's face, smiling naturally for the first time. Molly realises she likes him, a gentleness to his expression when he leans down, kissing her cheek. God, half her single mates tongues would be hanging out in his company.

"Nice meeting you Molly, look after yourself and look after him, he's getting old."

The way Charles watches him walking away, a look of guilt on his face brings out Molly's compassionate side, it's never far away when it comes to him, they've been through so much together in such a short space of time. "So you and Elvis, you ain't ever mentioned him before?" She whispers.

"It's been difficult for a while. We've disagreed about a few things. Happened when you went on tour." Smoothing a strand of hair behind her ear, watching her reaction carefully. "I could tell you about it if you want? But really it's his story to tell."

The calmness in her nut is back. Holding him close, she enjoys his familiar heat. "You're alright, probably something shit like he took the piss out of your singing."


	3. Suspicious Minds

Giving up trying to put the mascara on her long lashes, Georgie drops the wand back onto the overfilled dressing table, picking up the nearby wine glass, frosted from the cold liquid inside it and takes a sip. Critically she watches herself in the mirror, maybe she won't be pretty enough for him either. She doesn't want to do this.

6 months and 1 day to the exact date. Or counting back 9 months and 4 days to the day she'd said yes not thinking she would ever go on another date again. Yet here she was. Lifting her phone up from underneath one of Lulu's eyeshadow palettes, scrolling down the contacts until she gets to the five letter name causing her this current state of crisis. Jamie. Her finger hovering, sighing, dropping the phone again she drops her head onto the table.

The name says everything about him. He's conventional, bordering on the boring but importantly good looking and for some reason after she'd pulled him in a Manchester nightclub, he was sure one drink fuelled passionate kiss - because she was pissed out her brain and thinking of someone else - meant they should date. She'd tried to say no but her phone was out of her hands before she could think clearly, his long fingers dialing his own number, and there was nothing to do but answer the call when he rang the very next day and invited her out for dinner.

Five minutes until he was due to pick her up. Too late to cancel because by all probability he could already be outside, waiting for her. Instead with each swallow, she lets the wine slide down her throat, hoping it goes straight into her veins and dulls every emotion she feels at the sadness of having to date again.

Downstairs she knows her family are secretly delighted, all strategically placed to try and meet this Jamie, a Doctor no less. Too over invested in her life, but she can see why, understands. Maybe she doesn't like it, but when they've all had to piece her together, gathering every fragment of her heart until it resembled the loving, trusting, carefree predecessor they have a right to coddle, fuss and ultimately be her security.

It wasn't that Georgie is broken, or not anymore. When you kick ass regularly in the Army, see things people should never see in their lives; well then the innocence of others isn't there. Life wasn't fair - easy to comprehend. But, when you put all your trust in another human being, entwine your happiness with theirs and in one sentence, in one location, on one day you have no choice but to realise they no longer want to be a part of your life in any way, shape or form then you do break.

In the weeks afterwards, or she presumes so, because it all became a blur, she never wanted to _not_ live. Instead she wanted to hibernate - wake up when there was a calmness in her world. Reality was every morning she would open her eyes, have a moment where she couldn't remember anything, on the precipice of happiness, only something niggling at the back of her mind telling her she needed to remember and when she did the pain was as acute as it had been when he'd told her. Not Elvis. No, he didn't even give her the decency of letting her ask why, nah his friend Charles James had the honour of pulling the rest of her life out from beneath her feet. He'd been her friend too, or maybe he'd been in her circle of acquaintances because he'd never contacted her again, didn't check she was okay and like Elvis, he'd moved on with the rest of his life. Maybe she shouldn't have been so hard on him, what with him still recovering from his injuries, and all the shit which went with someone who needed 6 months of rehab but she was allowed to be bitter.

Lifting her head up, widening her eyes, she tries not to cry. Not because of what happened, but because if she picks up her clutch, walks out her bedroom door, passes her sister Lulu sitting on the stairs waiting to give her some life advice on not needing a man in her life, nods her head in reassurance to her parents, leaving the house and getting in the car with Jamie, it will be over.

Never again will she leave her bedroom window open, hoping she'll hear the sounds of the sash window being lifted, watch the curtains billowing in the breeze and feel her heart beat wildly in her chest waiting on his tall frame lithely climbing through. Georgie would never admit how recently she'd still had hope, would wake up, turning on her side and will him to appear. It's so recent she stands up, leaning across the dressing table and pulls the curtain to the side.

Her hands are on the wooden sill, ready to finally push the window down, closing it for the first time in over a year when her eyes rest on the black car on the street. She doesn't know who it belongs to, but every so often it appears. Pausing, she tilts her head to read the number plate. It was a game she'd started. Believing even if he never wanted to speak to her again, for whatever reason he'd removed himself from her life, at some point he would need to check she was okay.

It was possibly what hurt the most. When she put aside the hurt pride, the death of a dream of their lives together, it was he never cared how she was. Didn't feel the need to explain to her.

Why had he left her?

She didn't know, had to spend weeks shrugging her shoulders as people asked if she knew why? Surely there had been some signs, a frequent question. But there hadn't been. She'd spent hours racking her brain and wondering if she'd missed signs but she hadn't - she was sure of it. In the end the conclusion she'd come to was he'd met someone else, fallen in love at first sight and she hadn't been good enough to complete. It made sense. He'd fallen in love with her quickly, maybe he'd felt the same about Debbie until she'd come along. There was the possibility he'd even moved on again. It was, mockingly, what she loved about him - he was always the unexpected. Unfortunately even on their wedding day.

The clank of the old mechanism as the window shuts is surprisingly final. Sealing a part of her past closed. Her eyes don't leave the suspicious car, trying to work out if someone is sitting in the front seat but the street is too dark, even the illumination of lights from another car slowly making it's way down the street, pausing at each house, and she knows it must be Jamie. Trying to find which house is hers.

She steps back, lets the curtain falls until there is only a small gap for her to look out. Freezing. There's movement, she's sure of it, a figure in the black car. If _he_ is watching, then she's going to give him a show. Let him know she's moved on.

Rushing, she takes one final look at herself in the muted light highlighting the mirror, content with the effort made, thinks she looks fine. Picking up the small blue clutch bag, the one her sister Marie bought her as a 'moving on' present, opening it and smiling at the addition of some condoms. Maybe tonight she will, feel what it's like for someone else to be inside her. It would remove another memory of him because it won't just be Elvis's face she'll see from now on when she closes her eyes. They'll be a different scent filling up her nostrils, a different voice whispering into her ear as they make love. But she's ready.

Lulu's not on the stairs, and for a moment she thinks she can get away without having to pretend there's an excitement about this date. On the bottom step before a member of her family appears, closely followed by another, then another until they're all standing there. Her Mum, standing at the kitchen door, the smile on her face too big, trying hard to hide the concern. Her dad swallowing nervously, they've always been close, she's the son he never had. They laugh about it sometimes, talk about how he'd wanted to join the army but never been brave enough but tonight she's his daughter, can see all the fears reflected back in his eyes.

And of course her sisters, her best friends. Marie wishing it was her going on a date, the awkward stage when she's trying too hard and can't find a boyfriend, yet her older sister who would happily be single for the rest of her life is standing, dressed to the nines ready to go out with a Doctor no less. Lulu, nonchalantly chewing her gum, a look of disgust on her face because life is for living, a man would just hold her back from her dream to be a lawyer who can make a difference in life. Yet they all hug, put aside each of their different hopes for their lives and wish the best for the others. It's her Dad she moulds into last. Elvis had come between them, for a while her Dad had stopped being the most important man in her life, stupid mistake, one she would never make again.

"You'll be fine, love." He's squeezing the life out of her, she's going to lose half her makeup on his shirt, but she doesn't care. Maybe tonight she should stay here in the safety of his arms.

"I will be, because I'm not going to care enough for him to hurt me."

As her Dad's chin rests on her head, sighing at his daughters cynicism with life, there's the sound of a car door closing and Georgie's moving out of his hold. Away from the safety only he can provide from her.

Embarrassingly they all follow her. She's lifting her coat from the peg as her Dad opens the front door, her mum puts her hand out and grips her softly around her arm. "You look beautiful Georgie, he's a lucky guy."

Smiling, reassuring them or she tries. More than anything she'd love to run up the stairs, change into her pyjamas, remove the layer of makeup she's wearing because after what she's been through she doesn't have the belief anyone can like the bare faced Georgie she showed Elvis and climb into her bed. Blocking out the world around her as the songs of Elvis blared into her ears, dulling every single pain in her body. "Yeah well, I think you should all sod off and let's not scare him away, eh?"

Of course they don't listen to her and she has to turn and face the pavement. An audience to her walk towards Jamie who's leaning against his car. Relaxed and confident, unlike her, her breathing rapid, her mind reminding her of the exercises she's been through, breath in through her nose, filling her lungs and out through her mouth until her heart rate steadies. The smile on her face is painful, forced. He's smiling down at her when she reaches him, his eyes lightening up at the sight of her family gathered, nosy. Like a gentleman he brings his lips to her cheek, his hand gently touching her elbow and pulling her closer to him.

"You're more beautiful than I remember, and that's saying something."

It's good to laugh, lightens the strained atmosphere. And it's nice, because she going to allow herself to believe him. Elvis would never have told her that, wasn't his style. At the time she'd believed it was because she was more than a pretty face to him. Instead, looking back….. But this isn't about Elvis. Not anymore.

The car door's opened for her, waiting until she's sat down before he closes it, allowing her the opportunity to give her family one final wave and then he's sitting beside her. Unaware she's moved away from him, another moment of panic she's close to someone other than Elvis.

A stream of light, headlights from another car, illuminates the handsome man sitting beside her, grinning like he's lucky. It's infectious, her smile becoming more genuine. For a moment it slips, her attention on the black car heading to the end of the road, the one she was watching, the squeal of tyres as the driver takes the corner too fast.

If it was, and she really doesn't think it was, a childish hope she'd cultivated to keep her company, then it was typical Elvis. Leaving when the going became tough.

"You ready?" Jamie asks, his hand has found hers, strong fingers entwining with hers and reassuringly squeezing. "Cause whatever song starts playing when I start the car, well it's going to be our song."

"What?"

He doesn't answer, the hum of the engine being overtaken with the song on the radio. Of course it had to be. Or maybe it was a sign. "Or maybe not. Never been a huge fan of Elvis."

"You and me both."


End file.
